Thanatos
by Queen of the Red Skittle
Summary: All beings harbor an unconscious urge to die. Thanos observes, and knows.


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A.N: **Written to "Something Dark is Coming" by Bear McCreary.

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Thanatos

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The humans pay tribute to him without knowing.

_Thanatos. _Noun, referring to the death instinct all share deep in their subconscious. True, it is not his true name: he is Thanos, the Mad Titan, but it suits him fine. They do not know him yet, but they will in time. The captain had said _humans are unruly, they cannot be ruled _but Thanos does not want to rule. He wants to kill, to destroy. Let the humans cling to their ways. It does not matter to him, because he knows Death will claim each of them, will destroy them, and he will be there to deliver their meager existences to Her. He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the hollow shrieks ringing across the empty ship. From his balcony he regards the wailing creature below him. It had been a prince once, a glorious creature full of sharp angles and magic and desperate fury, but now he plucks at its mind-strings like a malignant harp, whispering lies and half-truths into its ear until it is sobbing, screaming for an end. It had failed to bring him both the Tessaract and Midgard on a silver platter, but that is not why he tortures it.

Thanos remembers when the god came to him first. No, not to him personally; it is said to look upon his face is to know madness. He had hidden himself in the shadows, content to watch the scene unfold without his interference. The god called itself Loki, face gaunt and terrible, visage wretched with untold hurt and hatred from its long fall from grace. An air of imbalance hung about it, as if its sanity hung on a precipice, well-matching the darkened cavernous surroundings. It said it had fallen from one of the nine realms and had come with an offer.

_The Tessaract: it is a force of unlimited power, _it had said._ Give me an army, and I will hand you it with all of Midgard. _

Thanos remembers the ponderous curiosity that stirred in his dead breast and the subsequent agreement to such a grandiose offer. It had been a long time since he had encountered such a lost creature. The hatred intrigued him, he recollects. Yes, all of that hatred and heartbreak and confusion. But it had been the shine in the wild, white-rimmed eyes that convinced him. When the god fell from grace it had not expected to live. It had yearned for its death. It was then Thanos knew he would grant the god's request. Gave it his scepter. Gave it his army. Returned it to life. Now he tortures it, not because of its failure, but that is his nature.

He is not a shape shifter like the god below: he cannot take a child's form or that of a beast's, but he can use imagination and twist it to his purpose. It is amusing to watch the mindless shrieks, the sweaty, gasping face. He retreats his presence from the former prince and watches it slump, shuddering in its shackles. Thanos contemplates his toy and considers returning it to its people. It does not matter who will kill the renegade prince: either its people will, or Thanos will. It is all the same. Death will have Her sacrifices. Midgard will be Hers. All of the nine realms are Hers. Thanos crosses the bridge and looks out across the empty vastness that is space, dearth of light or movement, a quality both thrilling and sinister to him. He must have things to kill. He must worship Death. How can he serve his dark mistress without life to snuff?

Thanos brushes his fingers against the railing and realizes it is too quiet in the hollow ship. He sends a tendril of thought to the chained god below. The god shudders, a cry rising. The cry turns into a howl when Thanos paints a picture of what its people are going to do it. The wails are sweet to his ancient ears and Thanos struggles not to kill it. No, he will return it to its people. But not now. There is too much fun to be had.

He turns his eyes to the blue world revolving around him. On the surface it does not appear much of anything: there is too much water and little land. But there is life there, so much life primed for his arrival. His captain told him of the humans that had defeated their army. _They call themselves the Avengers, they cannot be stopped _but Thanos had laughed and drove his captain to insanity with it. Thanos is familiar with the so-called 'Avengers.' He likes watching them. In each of them he sees a gorgeous wanting of death. They seek it, in their own way. They are not like their fellow humans; he can see a tiny reflection of himself in each of them. They are good at killing. Some even dedicate their lives in the art of it, especially the woman and the archer. Thanos is particularly interested in the one called Brue Banner. The monster had tried to kill itself once, tried to give itself up as a sacrifice to Her, but it was too weak. The monster spat the bullet out.

Thanos grins. When he will destroy everything, he will aid the beast find its peace. He will aid them all find theirs. They may pretend to hide their yearning for death in their steel eyes, but Thanos knows. They cannot lie to him. They cannot hide. They may struggle at first, but one by one they will submit to the gloriousness that is Death.

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_fin_


End file.
